“No shit,” Frank said, switching on his iPad. “You’ll see in a minute.”

—

This is very nice,” Caroline said after Stone closed the door and they had settled into the cockpit. “I’m a pilot, you know.”

“I didn’t know. What do you fly?”

“Daddy had a Cessna 182, and I learned in that. I’ve got about three hundred hours, total time. What is this airplane?”

“It’s a Citation Mustang, borrowed. I used to have one of these. I’m expecting delivery of a new CJ3+ shortly.”

“Lucky you.”

—

You’ll find our flight interesting,” Stone said. He worked his way through the checklist, all the while demonstrating how the avionics worked, then he started the engines and radioed ground control for a clearance. Fifteen minutes later they were lifting off Runway One.

Stone explained the moving map as they flew northward.

Caroline peered at their destination. “So we’re going to an island in Maine?”

“Exactly. There’s the airport on the map.”

“That looks awfully small for a jet airplane to land on.”

“And it will look short when we get there,” Stone said, “since it’s only two thousand four hundred and fifty feet long. You’ll notice that we’re flying at only eleven thousand feet. Jets use much more fuel at low altitudes, so that’s to lighten our load, since we started with full tanks. By the time we land, we’ll be much lighter, and that will help us stop short on landing, then help us break ground on takeoff when we return home. It also helps that I’ve done this before.”

“How long a runway do we need?”

“Ordinarily three thousand feet is good.”

“And this one is two thousand four hundred and fifty?”

“Right, but there are only two of us, we don’t have much luggage, and when we take off we’ll be at half fuel, so no problem.”

“I place myself in your hands,” she said.

“That’s not a great compliment, since you’re already in my hands.”

“How long is our flight?”

Stone consulted the instrument panel. “Another fifty minutes.” Half an hour later he pointed ahead of them. “That’s the island. The airport will be right over there,” he said.

“Ah, I see it. You’re right, it looks very short.”

“It will look longer when we get there.” Stone lined up the airplane and started a steep descent. He dropped the landing gear early, helping to slow to approach speed, then set the airplane down, threw in maximum flaps and speed brakes, and taxied off the runway, well short of the end. “Here we are,” he said, “and there’s our ride.” He pointed at a 1938 Ford station wagon and a man leaning against it.

—

Back at Teterboro, the two men sat in the car and stared at the iPad. “There,” one of them said, “they’ve landed on an island in Maine called Islesboro.”